perfectly misaligned

A faded sign hung crooked near the roof

Joe Auto Repair.

One corner finally gave way with a sharp creak as they watched, metal groaning softly against metal.

Y/n stood on the neighboring rooftop with her hood pulled low, staring at the building hard enough that her eyes burned. Here, here was Jason.

Her pulse refused to settle around the thought. It slammed too fast beneath her ribs, mixing with exhaustion until she felt hollowed out by it. Every part of her body hurt now that adrenaline had left her body. Her shoulder throbbed sharply beneath her jacket. Her ribs screamed every time she inhaled too deep.

She ignored it.

Below them, the street was nearly empty. Gotham’s industrial district always looked abandoned at dawn, quiet enough to feel wrong. But movement flickered around the edges if you knew where to look.

Joker’s goons.

Two near the front entrance smoking cigarettes. Another pacing the side entrance with a rifle hanging lazily from his shoulder. More silhouettes moving around in the shadows.

Tim crouched near the ledge beside her, visor glowing faint red as he scanned the building’s heat signatures.

“Twenty-three hostiles minimum,” he said quietly. “Maybe more inside the basement level. Thermal imaging’s messy.”

“Explosives?” Bruce asked.

“None visible,” Tim paused. “Which probably means yes.”

Damian scoffed softly. “Cowards do enjoy hiding bombs behind walls.”

Dick crouched beside an old ventilation unit, escrima sticks resting across his knees. “Any signs of Joker?”

Tim shook his head once. “No confirmed visual.”

Y/n’s stomach twisted. That meant nothing good. Bruce studied the building in silence for another second, cape shifting slightly in the wind behind him. Even standing still, he looked enormous against the gray skyline, carved from shadow and exhaustion.

“Jason’s likely held in the main garage area,”Y/n said suddenly.

Four heads turn her way.

She pointed towards the center of the building. “The support beams in there are reinforced. Strong enough for chains, hoist, all that.” Her throat tightened. “And Joker wants space. Room for his show. A stage.” Dick’s expression darkened slightly at that.

Tim adjusted the scan. “Heat density’s highest there too.”

Bruce’s gaze sharpened. “Meaning the heaviest guard presence.”

“Exactly.”

Y/n nodded absently, though her focus stayed fixed on the roofline. There. Near the east side. A slight dip in the metal she recognized immediately.

Old storm damage. The roof access hatch underneath it had never sealed correctly after the collapse years ago.

Her chest tightened painfully.

Still the same.

Dick noticed the shift in her expression. “You know a way in.”

Not a question.

Y/n dragged her eyes away from the building long enough to nod. “Roof hatch.” She pointed towards the east corner. “It sticks if you pull it normally. You have to lift and twist at the same time or the hinge catches.”

Tim’s brows lighted slightly. “That’s…weirdly specific.”

“I never said that we got the car parts legally,” she muttered.

Dick shook his head slightly, with a soft smile on his lips.

“You sure it still leads inside?” Damian asked.

“Yes.” Her answer came instantly. “Storage loft above the garage.”

Tim adjusted something on his wrist display. “Mininal heat signatures on the roof level. Most guards are concentrated near the ground entrances.”

“Meaning it’s our best infiltration point,” Bruce finished.

Silence settled briefly after that. No hesitation. Calculation.

Y/n knew what Bruce was about to say before he opened his mouth. She could feel it building in the air around him, heavy and inevitable.

“No,” he said.

She stared at him flatly. “You didn’t even let me ask yet.”

“I know what you’re going to ask.”

“Then you know I'm right.”

Bruce turned toward her fully now, expression hardening. “You’re injured.”

“So is Jason.”

The words hit sharper than she intended. Dick winced slightly. Tim looked away. Damian crossed his arms but stayed silent for once.

Bruce’s voice lowered dangerously. “That doesn’t change the fact that sending you in is reckless.”

Y/n stepped closer before he could continue. “Joker wants a show.”

That stopped him. Her eyes locked onto Bruce’s.

“He always wants Batman kicking the front door down. He wants the noise. The chaos. The big dramatic entrance where everyone’s looking at him.” Her jaw tightened. “So give it to him.”

Dick’s brows lifted slightly, understanding dawning.

Y/n pointed toward the big, rundown garage door below. “You hit the south entrance hard enough, every one of those idiots is gonna look the same direction.”

Tim glanced toward the autoshop. “And while they focus on us…”

“I go through the roof,” Y/n finished.

The wind whipped sharply across the rooftop, tugging strands of hair loose around her face.

“He’ll expect Batman,” she continued quickly. “He won’t expect me.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it became more unreadable

“He’s unstable,” he said. “If he sees you-”

“The man hasn’t been stable a day in his life, but he won’t see me.”

Absolutely certainly. No arrogance.

Y/n forced herself to breath through the pain pulling at her ribs. “I know this building better than any of you. I know where the floor creaks. I know which stairwell buckles near the wall. I know where the old storage loft opens over the garage.” Her throat tightened slightly. “And Jason knows me.”

Dick looked away for a second. Because they all understood what she meant. Jason hearing Batman coming for him would mean rescue. Jason hearing Y/n first would mean safety.

Bruce studied her for a long moment, cape shifting behind him in the cold dawn wind.

“What’s the route?”

Relief flickered across her face too quickly too hide.

She dropped into a crouch beside Tim’s holographic map projection immediately. “You hit here.” Her finger tapped the south loading entrance. “Fast. Loud. Joker likes spectacle, so don’t hold back.”

Dick actually grinned slightly. “I think we can manage dramatic."

Y/n ignored him, tracing another line across the roof. “While they move toward the noise, I cross from the west to the east side. The roof hatch leads into the storage loft. From there I can get eyes on the garage before moving lower.”

Damian frowned faintly. “And if the clown is already with Todd?”

Y/n’s jaw tightened.

Bruce folded his arms. “If you encounter Joker directly?”

Dick answered before she could.

“She calls it in.”

A beat.

Y/n’s silence lasted just slightly too long. Bruce noticed immediately. “Y/n.”

Her eyes flickered toward him.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Bruce said sharply.

Something dangerous flashed across her face then. Quick, ugly and grief-stricken all at once. Because part of her wanted Joker dead. Dick stood slowly, stepping between the tension before it could sharpen further. “We get Jason out first,” he said carefully. “That’s the priority.”

Y/n looked away first.

“Fine,” she muttered.

Damian narrowed his eyes like he didn’t believe her for a second. Honestly? Neither did she.

Tim broke the silence by tapping his wrist display again. “Okay, the security route updates every ninety seconds. If we move now, we hit them before they change position.”

Bruce nodded once.

“Everyone sync comms.”

A series of confirmations clicked through the rooftop. Dick spun one escrima stick loosely in his hand before securing it against his back. Damian adjusted his hood. Tim checked his grapple twice in quick succession.

Bruce stepped toward Y/n last.

For half a second, neither of them spoke.

Then Bruce handed her a small comm piece.

“In case you lose yours.”

Y/n blinked once, surprised.

Bruce’s voice lowered.

“You’ll find him,” he said. “You do not stop moving.”

She swallowed hard. Because underneath the order was something else. Please. Not just for Jason. For her too.

Y/n took the comm silently and fitted it into place.

Below them, one of Joker’s goons laugh loudly near the dock, completely unaware of the predators watching from above.

Bruce stepped back toward the ledge.

"Positions," he ordered.

The rooftop exploded into motion.

Dick vaulted first, disappearing across the alley gap in a blur of black and blue. Tim followed immediately after, grappling toward the neighboring fire escape. Damian dropped silently onto a lower ledge like gravity itself had personally trained him.

Bruce lingered one second longer. His gaze met Y/n’s briefly beneath the mask.

“Bring him home.”

With that, Bruce disappeared across buildings.

Y/n moved the second Bruce disappeared from her sight.

The rooftops swallowed her immediately, cold wind biting through her jacket as she broke into a low sprint across the uneven tar. Every step jarred her ribs hard enough to make her vision pulse faintly at the edges, but she pushed through it, boots barely making a sound against the roof.

Below her, Gotham breathed in slow industrial groans. Pipes hissed somewhere in the distance. Water dripped steadily from rusted gutters. The city smelled like wet concrete and smoke.

Ahead, the auto shop roof sagged inward near the east side exactly like she remembered.

Still broken.

Y/n dropped into a crouch behind a rusted ventilation unit near the roof’s edge and looked down.

Two goons remained near the loading entrance below, rifles slung loose while they smoked and bitched quietly to each other. One laughed loudly at something stupid enough that she instantly hated him.

Her eyes flicked upwards again towards the dip in the roofline.

Half-hidden beneath warped metal paneling sat the old maintenance hatch. Rust crawled around the hinges in thick reddish streaks. One corner sat slightly higher than the others where the storm years ago had bent the frame permanently out of shape.

Y/n inhaled carefully through the ache in her ribs and reached the grapple at her belt.

Three seconds later she launched silently across the alley gap.

The line caught. She swung low beneath the roof edge, boots skimming briefly against old brick before she released and caught the gutter with both hands. Pain exploded through her shoulder instantly, white-hot and vicious.

She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to stop the sound that tried to come out. Her muscles trembled violently as she hauled herself upwards inch by inch. Rust flaked beneath her gloves. The gutter groaned ominously.

For one awful second she thought it might rip free from the wall entirely. Then she rolled onto the roof hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

Pain lanced through her ribs.

She froze immediately, teeth clenched, waiting.

Below her, one of the goons paused mid-conversation. Y/n stayed perfectly still.

“...thought I heard something,” the man muttered.

Another snorted. “Probably another damn raccoon.”

The conversation resumed. Y/n exhaled shakily. Too close. She forced herself up again and crossed the remaining distance toward the hatch in a low crouch, movement careful despite the urgency clawing at her chest.

The metal beneath her boots dipped slightly near the center.

Same weak spot. God. Nothing had changed here except for them.

She reached the hatch and knelt beside it quickly, fingers brushing the warped edge.

Lift and twist. Just like before.

Y/n slid both hands beneath the lip and pulled sharply while twisting left. For half a second nothing happened. Then the hinge gave a soft metallic pop.

She caught the hatch before it could slam backward. Slowly yanking the dark opening beneath her.

Cold air drifted upward carrying dust, oil, old rust and underneath it all…blood.

Her stomach twisted so violently she nearly gagged.

The sound hit her, faint uneven breathing.

Y/n slipped silently through the hatch feet first, lowering herself onto the narrow metal ladder bolted into the wall. The shaft creaked softly around her as she descended. Darkness swallowed her almost immediately. Only thin slashes of pale dawn light cut through the crack of the old walls. Below her voices echoed faintly through the building. Goons talking somewhere through the building.

But beneath it all.

A wet, ragged breath. Closer now.

Y/n reached the bottom of the ladder and paused perfectly still. She’s in the storage loft, just like she remembered.

Dust-covered shelves lined the walls, old engine parts piled beneath torn tarps. A collapsed tool cabinet leaned drunkenly near the far corner. The wooden catwalk stretched out over the main garage below, hidden mostly in shadow.

She moved toward it slowly.

Every board beneath her boots threatened noise.

Every breath hurt.

The closer she got to the railing, the harder her pulse slammed against her ribs.

Please.

Please be alive.

Y/n reached the edge of the loft and looked down. The world stopped. Jason sat bolted to a metal chair in the center of the garage beneath a single industrial light. Barbed wire wrapped around him so tightly it looked fused to his body.

Blood soaked through his clothes in dark streaks. His head hug forward weakly, white streak stained crimson beneath the light. One knee twitched faintly like his body had forgotten how to stop shaking.

For one terrible second she couldn’t breath.

The room tilted. Not again.

The garage around him looked abandoned except for the torture devices laid out carefully around the chair.

Crowbars.

Electrical cables.

Chains hanging from exposed beams.

Joker wasn’t here. That made it somehow worse.

Like he had trusted the damage already done to keep Jason exactly where he wanted him.

Y/n’s hand tightened instinctively around the knife strapped to her thigh. Her breathing shook once before she forced it steady again.

Focus.

Jason’s head shifted weakly below, like instinct alone sensed something moving nearby. Y/n crouched lower against the railing and tapped softly against the rusted metal beside her.

Tap-tap.

Jason froze instantly.

Even from above she saw it. The way every inch of him went rigid despite the pain it clearly caused.

Y/n’s throat tightened painfully.

Tap.

Tap-tap

Tap.

His head lifted weakly. Too slow. Too heavy. His visible eye darted unfocused through the darkness below the loft, panic and disbelief tangling together across his face.

I’m hearing things, his expression screamed.

Y/n swallowed hard. Then tapped again.

Tap-tap.

Pause.

Tap.

Tap-tap.

Tap.

Jason’s breathing broke.

A shattered sound escaped him, halfway between a laugh and a sob. His head tilted upward slightly now, desperate and disbelieving all at once.

“...Y/n?”

Barely audible.

Emotions hit her hard, she nearly lost her balance for a second.

He sounded so destroyed. Jason’s eye searched the darkness frantically now, hope terrifying him more than pain ever could.

Her comm cracked softly.

“In position,” Tim’s voice murmured.

“Ready,” Damian replied.

A beat later.

“Nightwing’s ready to make this ugly.”

Despite everything, Y/n almost smiled.

Bruce’s voice cut through last. Low and controlled.

“On my mark.”

Y/n pressed a shaking finger against her comm at her ear. Her eyes never left Jason.

“Let’s go,” she whispered.

The response came instantly.

Gunfire erupted outside the auto shop. Sharp bursts of sound cracked through the thin metal walls, followed immediately by shouting as Batman and the others hit Joker’s men head-on near the loading entrance

“Contact left-”

“Move move move-”

Something heavy slammed against the garage doors from the outside hard enough to rattle the entire building. Metal groaned violently in its frame.

Jason flinched hard beneath the light. Recognition flashed across his face, Bruce.

Y/n saw the exact moment panic followed it. His body jerked instinctively against the barbed wire before agony tore through him hard enough to force a broken sound from his throat. Fresh blood welled where the wire bit deeper into his chest and arms.

“No,” he rasped weakly, breath shaking violently. “No no no, he wants-”

She moved fast.

The catwalk creaked softly beneath her boots as she crossed toward the stairs leading into the garage below. Every second stretched painfully thin now. Outside, the fight intensified, fists hitting flesh, gunshots cracking through dawn air, Dick shouting something sharp over comms before static swallowed it again.

The distraction was working. Every goon left inside had rushed toward the commotion.

Y/n hit the bottom stair and crossed into the shadows beside an old engine lift, moving low and quick between abandoned equipment until Jason filled her entire vision.

And god, up close it was worse. Way worse.

Her breath caught painfully in her throat.

Bruises covered nearly every visible inch of him. Blood soaked through torn fabric in dark streaks. The barbed wire wrapped around his torso looked viscous under the industrial light, twisted deep enough into his skin that even breathing seemed dangerous.

His hands shook violently against the restraints without him seeming aware of it anymore.

But his eye, swollen shut, cut along his cheekbone.

Her eyes stayed locked onto his, fearing that if she blinked he might disappear.

“You came," he whispered hoarsely.

The words nearly shattered her.

Y/n dropped into a crunch in front of him, hands hovering uselessly for half a second because she didn’t know where she could touch him without hurting him more.

“Of course I came,” she whispered shakily.

Something cracked across his face then. Relief so overwhelming it almost looked painful.

Outside, another burst of gunfire echoed across the lot followed by someone screaming in pain.

Jason flinched again.

“No,” he rasped suddenly, panic cutting through the haze. “You listen to me, you need to leave before he-”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“He planned this, you don’t understand, he wants-”

“I know what he wants.” Her voice sharpened instantly, cutting straight through his panic. “And I don’t care.”

Jason stared at her, breathing uneven. Y/n swallowed hard and forced her shaking hands toward the wire around his ribs.

“I saw the video, Jason.”

That silenced him instantly.

Something awful flickered across his face.

Shame.

Fear.

Guilt.

Like he hated that she had seen him like that, like this.

Y/n’s chest ached so badly she thought it might split open.

“Hey,” she whispered softer now, finally risking touching his face carefully beneath the bruising. “Look at me.”

His eye lifted toward her slowly.

“You don’t ever have to be sorry for surviving.”

Jason’s breath broke.

For a second, neither of them spoke. Then Jason frowned. A small movement, but enough. His gaze drifted from her eyes to the bruises and cut scattered across her face. The spilt lip. The dark fingerprints wrapped around her neck.

Y/n felt his gaze burning into her skin. She immediately wished she’d pulled her collar up higher.

Jason couldn’t help himself but to stare.

“What happened to you?”

The question came out rough, barely more than a whisper.

Y/n looked away.

“It’s a long story.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Y/n.”

“Later.”

The answer came too quickly.

Because where exactly was she supposed to start?

The fight with Harley and her dipshits?

The Joker toxin?

The fight with her and Bruce?

Nothing he should worry about right now.

Y/n swallowed hard and forced her attention back at the barbed wire wrapped around his ribs

“Right now we’re focusing on getting you out of this chair.”

Jason watched her for another second. Like he knew she was avoiding the question. Like he knew whatever happened had been bad. But for a moment he let it go.

For now.

His eye dropped to the wire cutter in her hand.

“Fair enough.”

Outside, Batman slammed someone hard enough against the ground that they could hear his ribs crack.

Tim’s voice crackled faintly through comms.

“More incoming from the west side.”

“We see them,” Dick answered sharply.

Damian sounded entirely too pleased somewhere in the background. “Finally.”

Y/n barely heard any of it.

Her focus stayed entirely on Jason as she reached toward the utility belt around her waist, pulling free the compact wire cutter secured against her hip.

Jason saw them. Hope hit his face so suddenly it hurt to look at.

Y/n carefully reached toward the first section of barbed wire twisted across his chest.

“Okay,” she whispered, trying to steady her breathing. “This is gonna hurt.”

Jason’s eyes stayed fixed on her.

“Yeah,” he rasped softly. “Figured.”

Y/n carefully slid the wire cutters beneath the first twisted section wrapped around Jason’s ribs.

“Stay still,” she whispered.

Jason huffed out the ghost of a laugh. “Starting to think you enjoy impossible requests.”

Her throat tightened painfully at that. Because even now, half conscious and bleeding under a single flickering light, he still finds the energy to joke around.

Y/n steadied the cutters and squeezed. The metal snapped with a sharp click. Jason jerked violently anyway. A strangled sound from his throat as the loosened wire shifted against torn skin. His head dropped forward hard, breathing breaking into rough uneven gasps.

“Shit- sorry,” Y/n whispered immediately, panic flashing through her chest. Jason shook his head weakly after a second. “Keep going.”

Outside, another round of gunfire cracked through the air.

The garage doors rattled violently again. Y/n force herself to focus. One wire at the time. The barbs caught everywhere. Across his chest. Around his shoulders. Twisted tightly down both arms. Coiled viciously around his thighs beneath torn fabric dark with blood.

Joker had wound it carefully. Every movement dragged barbs through skin. Every breath hurt him. Her stomach turned violently. Y/n cut another section loose from his shoulder, trying desperately not to pull too hard as the metal peeled away from torn flesh.

Jason hissed sharply through clenched teeth.

“Almost there,” she whispered, though they both knew it was a lie. Her glove snagged suddenly against one of the exposed barbs.

Rip.

The fabric tore across her palm. A sharp sting followed instantly as the barb sliced cleanly through skin beneath it, but she barely registered it. Her focus never left Jason. Blood slid slowly across her fingers unnoticed.

Outside, comms crackled violently through static.

“More on the east side!” Tim barked.

“We know,” Bruce answered grimly.

More voices. More footsteps. More goons arriving.

Y/n’s pulse kicked harder.

“Hurry,” Jason rasped weakly.

“I’m hurrying.”

She cut another length free from his arm. Then his chest. Then carefully around his thighs where the wire had bitten so deep that she had to pull slightly harder.

Jason’s entire body trembled every time she pulled another coil loose. Finally the last twisted length wrapped around his shoulders dropped to the concrete floor with a metallic clatter.

Jason sagged forward immediately.

Y/n caught him before he could hit the floor. The second her hands touched him fully, she realized how badly he was shaking.

Not cold but from shock.

“Hey hey,” she murmured quickly, adjusting her grip around him. “Stay with me.”

Jason nodded once against her shoulder, though the movement looked unfocused. Y/n reached quickly for the restraint bolted around his wrists. The lockpick slipped once in her bloody fingers before she forced herself to steady.

Click.

One wrist free.

Then the other.

The second the restraints released completely, Jason nearly collapsed out of the chair. Y/n caught him hard against her side with a strained gasp as pain ripped through her ribs again.

“Easy,” she breathed sharply.

Jason tried to stand anyway.

Immediately stumbled.

His knee buckled so hard she barely caught him in time before both of them went down together.

“Okay,”Y/n muttered breathlessly, tightening her grip around his waist. “Maybe not walking yet.”

“I can walk,” Jason slurred stubbornly.

“You literally just folded like a lawn chair.”

Despite everything, she heard the faintest broken huff leave him. Y/n pressed two fingers quickly against her comm.

“I’ve got him.”

For half a second nobody answered. Dick’s voice hit first, sharp with relief.

“You found him?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked slightly despite herself, “He’s alive.”

A beat of silence followed.

Even through comms she could hear the emotional whiplash hit all of them at once.

Then Bruce.

“Status.”

“Injured. Badly.” Y/n adjusted Jason’s arm more securely around her shoulder. “But conscious.”

Gunfire erupted loudly through Bruce’s side of comms before he spoke again.

“More hostiles are incoming. At least fifteen.”

Tim swore somewhere nearby.

“They’re pouring in from the north alley now,” he said quickly. “We can’t break away yet.”

Y/n looked toward the garage entrance instinctively.

Bruce’s voice came low and immediate.

“Stay inside.”

Her jaw tightened .“Bruce-”

“We don’t know how many are still on the premises,” he cut in sharply. “Do not move towards the exits until we clear the perimeter.”

Another crash echoed outside. Jason flinched weakly against her. Y/n looked around quickly. The open garage suddenly felt enormous. Too exposed. Her eyes snapped toward the back hallway near the tool storage. The office. Small, enclosed, one entrance. Defensible.

“I’m moving him to the office,” she said in a hurry.

“Copy,” Tim answered.

Y/n adjusted her grip around Jason carefully before forcing both of them upright again. Jason bit back a sound as weight hit his legs.

“I got you.” she whispered quickly.

“You always do,” he muttered weakly.

Together they staggered slowly toward the back hallway, Jason leaning heavily against her side while distant fighting continued raging outside the building. Neither of them noticed the drops of blood marking their path across the concrete floor as they stumbled deeper into the auto shop.

A few became a dozen.

A dozen became a trail.

Easy to follow. Easy to find.

Hiiii 😅 it has been a while and I’m very sorry. This year has been kicking my ass since the very beginning and everything got a bit too much. I lost interest in everything I enjoyed, it took me a bit to find my way back. But here we are! I was supposed to post this last week but chaos and I wanted to delay it even more because it’s hot as fuck in Europe but I couldn’t make you wait longer than you already did.

What you may noticed as well is that it’s significantly shorter than normal but I thought if I make it shorter I can post more regularly and you guys are fed. A win win for everyone.

I hope you enjoyed it!

You can still request a story! It may take some time because I have a few that I still need to finishes! Sorry for the people that are still waiting, please forgive me.